


Undone

by TheChozo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Homophobic Language, Hurt!Cas, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Sexual Tension, Stitches, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 12:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30089085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChozo/pseuds/TheChozo
Summary: A night of stitches and booze.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 29





	Undone

**Author's Note:**

> I’m always a slut for drawn out, tension-filled moments. 

What was that smell?

Dean stepped into the mustiest motel room ever. It was worse than the ones Dad took them to sometimes, when the maids wouldn’t clean between guests sometimes. 

“Dean.”

Dean suddenly found himself not alone in his shitty room. He whipped around to find Cas, bloody and beaten. He looked ready to topple over. Cas swayed, the scent of metallic tang filling the air.

Dean caught him just in time.

“Whoa. Cas. What happened to you?”

“Angels,” he answered, gravely and rough. Cas’ voice trembled in Dean’s chest making him feel warm despite his worry for his friend. 

“Raphael?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded. “They… they took my grace.”

Dean froze, sensing emotion rising from Cas. Cas looked up at Dean, nose bleeding freely, blue eyes welling with tears. “Dean, they…”

Dean didn’t know what that meant, but he calmly led Castiel over to one of the shitty motel beds, the bedspread of flowers about to be ruined with angel blood. “Hey, it’s going to be ok. Are you hurt? What did they do to you?”

Dean checked over Cas cautiously, hands moving deftly among the bloodstains. Cas had a gash in his arm, a shallow cut on his throat, and his face was slowly swelling. “Why aren’t you healing?” he said.

“My grace… It heals my injuries for me. But now… I’m human.”

“...What?” Dean said, looking up.

“I’m human, Dean.”

Dean never saw Cas cry before, but now, he wept. Dean was at a loss for what to do.

“Shit…” was all he could say. 

Cas’ fingers tightened around Dean’s arms. What was he supposed to do? Lie, tell him everything was going to be alright? Hold him close, comfort him. His mind reeled from the thought. Dean straightened up and looked at Cas sitting on the bed. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. That means… what does it mean?”

“Raphael has my grace. Without it I’m powerless.” Cas looked at him. “The war for heaven is over. He’s won.”

“Whoa, hold on. If he has your grace, it means it’s not lost. We just have to get it back.”

“Dean. Forget it. Raphael will find me soon,” Cas said quietly. “It’ll all be over soon.”

“No, no way. You’re not giving up that easily. Look, I don’t know how to get it back, but we’ll think of something.”

Something passed over Cas’ wrecked face, a tiny spark of hope. “Thank you, Dean. But I should go. Staying here will just lead Raphael straight to you.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean pushed Castiel’s shoulder down when he tried to get up. 

“I’m only going to put you and Sam in danger.”

“We can take care of ourselves, man. You don’t have to worry about us. Let us worry about you for a second. How did you get here?”

“My wings… They’re still intact. It’s the only part of me I have left.”

Dean pursed his lips while holding up Cas’ arm. To have yourself ripped away like that… Dean could imagine, he’s lived through it, everyday in hell. 

“You’re going to need stitches,” Dean said matter-of-factly. “Why don’t you take a shower first?”

Cas nodded as if he were in a daze. He started to undress himself, slowly, painfully.

Dean swallowed. “Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m fine.”

He didn’t look fine. He could see Cas’ usual tolerance for pain wasn’t sticking with him. Cas got up from the bed undoing his tie, leaving a bloody trench coat behind. Dean stopped himself from hovering and instead turned away towards the door. Well, it was a very slow turn watching Cas fumble with the knot.

“Do you know how to work a shower?” Dean asked, suddenly.

The tie slipped off. Cas groaned as he took his jacket off next. He blinked. “I’m sure I’ll manage, Dean.”

Dean had been staring at the way his hair stood up, messy from the fight. But now he was staring at the curves of the muscles his coat always hid. Something electric caught Dean when he met Cas’ eyes. Dean tore them away and pulled open the door. 

He shoved his hand into his pocket, searching for his keys and slammed the door in the process. Frustrated, Dean walked to his car, worries springing in his head. Does he like guys? Does he like  _ Cas _ ? He wasn’t technically a guy, though, was he? He was an Angel of the Lord, high and mighty Castiel that had changed for him, changed  _ because of him.  _ He thought for certain he wouldn’t want to bone anyone on the side that wanted to bring on the Apocalypse, but Cas was different. He had always been… different. Every time he looked at him he had to remind himself that Cas was  _ wearing  _ someone else. But damn, Cas wore Jimmy well. But he wore him like  _ Cas.  _ Like his body was his own. 

But he wasn’t thinking about that right now. He was thinking how he and Sam were going to get out of this one. Become the most wanted men in America? Pretty cool, but not as fun as he thought. He and Sam decided to split up for a while after the suspicious looks and 911 calls got to them. Everyone was looking for two men with their exact height and description together at the moment.

But Dean didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted to think about the ways he could make Cas be undone. A total  _ human  _ Castiel all to himself. It was a traitorous brain that wanted to take care of Cas in more ways than one. 

But first things first, he had to angel proof where they were right now. Dean didn’t know how far Cas had flown, but he guessed it wouldn’t take very much time for Rapheal to catch up to a now trackable Cas. Dean rummaged around in the back of his car, sadly no Baby, and produced a bottle of whiskey and his med kit, the bigger one with the sewing kit inside. 

Mostly he was angry that Castiel didn’t think to ask them for help. A war by yourself? Cas did more for them that he could do in a lifetime for Cas.

Dean frowned when he realized he would never say no to Castiel. Ever. 

He shook those thoughts away. But he grabbed the lube just in case, too.

Dean set the med kit on the bed, the whiskey on the bedside table, the lube next to the shitty Bible in the drawer. There was no way he was going to mess tonight up.

The shower was peacefully going in the next room. Soon Cas would have to come out. He would have to come out with nothing but a towel on, he’d have to, all of his clothes were bloody. He’d had to ask for a spares. They’d have to go to the laundromat the next morning… Or they wouldn’t need clothes at all. 

Maybe Dean should just go in there. Maybe he should have torn back the shower curtain and crowd Cas against the plastic bathroom wall. His clothes would get wet, he wouldn’t care. All he needed was to taste Cas’ lips against own, something he always wanted but never dared allow himself to have. 

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” he’d say against his wet skin, he’d kiss him softly under the water. 

Dean opened the bottle of whiskey in order to calm himself down. He shouldn’t be daydreaming he should be trying to help his friend. 

His hurt, human friend. Dean didn’t know if Rapheal let him live or not. Cas crying made him ache with a sadness he could never understand. An angel turned human. That would make Cas-

-fell with a  _ bang  _ onto the bathroom wall, suddenly woozy from the pain and blood loss. 

“Dean,” he said. Then louder. “Dean!”

Dean hurriedly opened the bathroom door. “You alright?” Dean said just beyond the curtain, tentative to take a step past platonic and maybe not.

“It’s just…” Cas said. “My inner ear balance.”

Dean pulled back the shower curtain, a worried look in his eye. Cas reached out to him, tipping. 

Dean yelled and clasped Cas’ fingers. He helped him fall slowly to the shower floor. 

“Put your head between your knees. I’ll stitch you up right now.” But Dean didn’t leave. 

Cas saw what he was looking at, a gash in his thigh that had made his pants sticky black and unnoticeable to Dean at first. Cas had been walking on adrenaline and was now starting to feel the sharp pain of each of his injuries under the water that turned red underneath him. His arm wouldn’t stop bleeding, sliced skin still handing by long strips.

Cas sat there, hands in his hair. “Don’t go.”

Dean paused by the door. “I’ll only be a second.”

Dean returned from the bedroom and turned off the water.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked, hands shaking as he tried to thread the needle. He unscrewed the whiskey he had brought with him and took a swig. Dean blinked himself back into reality and threaded the needle through the hole. 

“Let’s start with your thigh wound,” Dean said calmly. 

Cas wouldn’t budge, hands tightening in his hair. “I lost my soul today.”

Dean tried not to look anywhere he wasn’t supposed to look. He felt absolutely broken that Castiel had ended up like this.

When would Dean stop breaking things? He wondered if he would ever stop. He broke in hell and he was breaking just as Cas was human in the shower, the time that he needed him most. Dean melted at the vulnerability. He couldn’t… He had to be strong for Cas. 

“We’ll get it back, Cas,” Dean said quietly. 

Cas let out a slow breath and opened his leg up to reveal the hidden stab wound. Dean dabbed the needle in alcohol and got to work, using continuous sutures were his kind of stitches. 

Cas hissed at the needle under his skin. 

“Sorry, man. I’m not letting you bleed out,” Dean said. He reached behind him and offered him the whiskey. “Here. This’ll help.”

Cas eyed him thoughtfully. He took the bottle and swallowed big. Dean saw the disgust flow through Castiel’s body and he almost laughed at how comical the reaction was. 

“Hey,” he said laughing then, gruffly: “Stop moving, man. If you can’t take it, pass it here.” Dean stopped what he was doing and lifted a palm up towards the bottle, inches from Cas’ dick. Dean didn’t look down though, he was looking right at Cas’ eyes, how they squinted and took another sip, not shuddering this time. Cas handed the bottle silently to Dean. He took a swig no problem, only breaking eye contact to get back to work. Dean kept his hand steady and his eyes  _ focused  _ on the cut in front of him, never straying, no sir. Cas continued to take sips each time Dean wasn’t careful enough with the needle. The air prickled on Cas’ drying skin. He felt gooseflesh creep up his being when Dean touched him on the inside of his thigh. Dean took his time, but he couldn’t stop a steady blush from creeping up his chest. Cas saw it peeking out below his neck when he couldn’t help his eyes from wandering. 

“Are you hanging in there?” Dean asked when he carefully tied the knot with precision. 

“Yes, I- thank you, Dean.”

“No problem,” Dean said, far away. Cas wondered what was going on, his vision blurry. He closed his eyes, slowly. 

Someone was saying his name.

“-Cas. Cas? You with me?”

Cas made a noncommittal noise. “Hm?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have drank that,” Dean said, worried. 

“No, I’mmm… fine.”

A sharp pain brought him back to his senses. Dean stopped the flow of whiskey. 

“Cas, there was gravel in your cut. What the hell happened anyway?”

“Not important. There were too many of them. This is Rapheal punishing me. Soon he will find me.” Cas’ face fell through his drunken haze. “And kill me.”

“He would have killed you if he got to your grace.”

Cas suddenly chuckled. “What a sad life I lead. I thought I could stand up for something I believe in. And I was shot down for my insolence.”

“Cas, you can’t think like that, man. They’re the ones that wanted to kill people for no reason they’re the ones that wanted their Paradise at the cost of the world. You have to fight for what’s right, no matter what. No matter the price. And you’re doing that.”

“I used to. Now I’ve failed.”

“Cas,” Dean said, squeezing tighter around his arm. He didn’t ask Cas to put on some clothes. He did want to save his life though. “You haven’t failed.”

Dean’s heart felt unstable, like it was going to explode. He didn’t like seeing Castiel in this much pain. He wanted it to be gone. He would take it on instead. Anything other than the hurt look upon Cas’ face. 

“Now I’m… useless. I can’t protect you and Sam anymore.”

“Cas, just because your nuclear reactor’s gone dark, doesn’t mean we’ll leave you in the dust,” Dean said angrily, mad that Cas would even think he was useless. He looked up into his blue eyes and said. “You aren’t useless. You’re… family.” But he wasn’t though. He was more family to Dean, more than a brother. He didn’t see those thoughts though, couldn’t see those thoughts. Those thoughts were wrong, Cas was a friend. Nothing else. It could be nothing else. 

“Are you sure?” Cas said, head tilting. 

Dean was going to say  _ I want you to know _ … 

But what came out was. “Cas, I want… you…” 

Before he knew it, he was leaning closer, mirroring Cas, who was hopeful, pleading.

Cas closed his eyes. 

_ This would be the perfect time to kiss him,  _ Dean thought, the  _ to  _ on the tip of his tongue, but slowly he felt his mouth moving backwards to the hard C sound. But he didn’t move any further than the first letter of his name. Dean stopped, foreheads brushing. He could feel the moisture on Cas’ hair, Cas’ breath against his lips. All he had to do was lean a little bit more forward…

Cas frowned a tiny amount and opened his eyes when nothing happened, but Dean wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Dean, I-”

“I’ll get you some clothes,” Dean said. He scooted back quickly, standing up unsteadily.

Dean got a black shirt, some sleep pants, boxers briefs and a flannel just in case.

Cas was still naked in the tub, hair gathering water and spilling droplets down the side of his face. Dean was half-hard but hopefully Cas wouldn’t notice. Cas wouldn’t meet his gaze, his body looking a bit less pale. Did Dean help get the blood rushing? Cas certainly got Dean’s…

Dean dropped the clothes onto the toilet seat. 

Cas held the needle between his two fingers. Heat flared in his cheeks when Dean realized he didn’t finish Castiel’s stitches.

“Here, I’ll…” Dean took the needle out of Cas’ fingers, the sides of their fingernails touching. 

Dean finished the sutures quick enough, but it was difficult when Cas’ dick was  _ right there.  _

Dean carefully tied the last knot. He looked up and his mouth collided with Castiel’s. It started out imperfect, Cas catching the corner of his mouth, but they’re mouths found each other and slotted easily enough soon after. 

Cas’ kiss was rough, stubble scraping along his chin like some sort of sex-god.

Dean felt his cock strained against his pants. It felt so good just to just feel the friction in his jeans.

But then he remembered the last time he was caught kissing a guy. 

_ Fag. _

Dean pulled back, his Dad’s voice in his head. 

_ No one’s going to want to work with a faggot, Dean. _

I did it for you, Dean thought.

“Dean,” Cas asked. “What’s wrong? Should I not have-“

The whiskey bottle scraped against the tile of the bathroom floor as Dean picked it up. He silently stood and went out into the bedroom.

Dean didn’t help Cas put his clothes on, but he got halfway down the bottle when Cas limped out of the bathroom.

“Dean, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, you hear?” Dean said, his back to Cas. He continued to tip the bottle back. “Just a drunken mistake. Didn’t know you were such a lightweight when you don’t have your angel mojo to back you up, right?”

Cas was silent behind him. 

“We’ll forget this in the morning,” Dean said.

“Can I ask why?”

Dean looked at him over his shoulder. “We just can’t, Cas.”

Cas stared at him. “At least give me the bottle, Dean. I’m still- It hurts,“ Cas said, voice shaking.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t stop hurting.” Dean snapped. He looked back at Cas’ disappointed expression and instantly felt guilty. He held the bottle out and Cas tenderly strode forward, taking the bottle out of his hands and taking three solid gulps out of it. Cas wiped what was left on the back of his hand from his mouth.

Dean reached out for another swig but Cas held the bottle fast in his grip.

“You have to earn it first,” Cas said hazily.

“Earn it?” Dean tried to pull the bottle away, but Cas just pulled Dean in closer.

“You have to say what’s wrong.”

Dean could smell the whiskey on Cas’ breath. He was sure his mouth reeked the same way but the way it tasted on Castiel's lips was far superior than the exhale hitting his cheek and mouth.

“And if I don’t?” Dean said, aching to press the shape of his body into Cas, barely on the edge of control. 

Cas looked into his eyes, pupils dilated. Dean wondered if that was a good or bad sign.

Good sign, Dean thought when Castiel’s eyes flicked to his lips. Dean’s own teeth caught on his skin, anticipating.

Cas slowly lost focus, his eyes becoming half-lidded. “Or I’ll smite you.”

They stood there for a moment, pausing to take in each other’s emotions: fear, lust, want, the urge to back up, laugh it off. They didn’t and Dean could see the strain standing up was putting on Cas.

Dean laid him gently on the bed, prying the bottle from his hands. Cas’ head moved gently from side-to-side on the mattress as if he enjoyed the feeling. Dean’s mouth twitched as he took another mouthful, the burn becoming less painful. He wondered if he was going to black out tonight. All he had today was gas station food and thoughts of Lisa and Ben. He carried so much guilt… Another swallow soon found the back of his throat. 

“Dean, whatever you did… I don’t blame you for it,” Cas suddenly said. 

Dean closed his eyes. “You don’t know me, Cas. You don’t know anything I had to do.”

“I saw you in hell. I have a pretty good idea.”

“What exactly did you see?”

“I saw you cutting into someone. And I saw the most beautiful soul I’ve ever encountered.”

“Cas… Don’t…”

Don’t try. Don’t bring up hell. Don’t try to relate to him like he was worth it to forgive. Dean glanced at Cas. He was breathing softly, drifting up off to sleep, the hem of his black shirt folded and riding up on his stomach, a bare strip of skin showing. More vulnerability. How the hell did Cas trust him? Dean upturned the bottle into his mouth. 

“Dean,” Cas said from the bed. “You should slow down.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. You’d be surprised how much I can take,” Dean said, more confident than he felt. Already he was going fuzzy around the edges. 

“Fine,” Cas said, wincing as he sat up. “If you won’t stop at least let me share the burden.” Cas held out his hand. Dean stared at it for a second. He handed it off and Cas tentatively took a sip. 

“You don’t have to drink that,” Dean said. 

“Like you said-” Cas' voice was deep and gravelly. Dean wanted to feel his voice in his bones. “-It helps.”

“With what?” Dean whispered.

“Everything.”

Cas passed out before Dean did. They almost got through the whole bottle of whiskey, handing it back and forth silently, avoiding each other’s eyes, but never daring to refuse a swallow of alcohol. Dean liked it better that way. He didn’t have to talk about what transpired between them in the bathroom. Cas layed down and Dean almost considered laying down next to him, but he forced himself to get up, walk to the other bed and get underneath the covers, glad they ran out of singles for tonight. 

The room spun in the darkness and Dean found himself drifting off to sleep with Cas in the next bed. Dean couldn’t help but think about the kiss that happened in the other room. It seemed like a whole other time, something that didn’t exist in this universe. It had happened so fast. Dean mulled over the details in his mind. The way Cas’ tongue had darted out as if testing the waters. Dean had held Cas’ soft lips between his own, he had wanted to take his head and pull it closer. Dean remembered the stubble, his teeth scraping against Cas’, his hand against his neck.

Why did Dean pull back? He should have pulled him closer, felt his hard chest beneath his fingers, splayed a hand against his naked collarbone, snaked a hand behind his back, deepened the kiss till he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

Instead he was with the ghost of the memory, Cas’ breathing steady in the other bed, Dean tightening against his pants in the dark. 

Dean knew it was wrong, but he unbuttoned his jeans and slid a hand between his legs. Cas wasn’t an angel anymore. He wouldn’t have to know that he was doing this the next bed over.

Dean wanted more of the fantasy, more of Cas, more skin on skin contact more than just hands on arms and hugs. He wanted sweat, he wanted to lick the salt from Cas’ skin, feel his hair beneath his fingers. 

Dean became wet in his boxers, hands stroking slowly as he imagined him and Cas in the bathroom. Cas was taking off his shirt, Cas was falling towards his chest, Cas was running his tongue and his mouth down to his nipple.

Dean was panting steadily into his other arm, determined to keep quiet. Sweat beaded on his brow, his heart rate elevated, his legs shook from the strain of keeping an orgasm at bay. He wanted to feel the pleasure a little longer, imagine what Cas would’ve done he noticed he wanted to have him right there in the bathroom.

This was fine. Not actually touching Castiel was fine. He could keep him in the recesses of his mind, bring him out whenever he hurt too much.

Dean brought his cock out of his pants, keeping a steady rhythm. His dick was now slick with precome making the job easier to stroke up and down imagining his best friend between his legs. What would he do with his cock in his mouth? How would Dean react with the underside of Cas’ tongue over the tip of his dick? 

Dean strained against his hand, warm heat pooling in the bottom of his stomach. He was so close…

Dean didn’t realize how much noise he was making until a low moan came from the other bed. Dean froze, listening. Was that… Cas? Dean paused in the dark, his stupid orgasm runnning further away in his mind. He felt guilty about the stickiness around his hand and cock. He shouldn’t have…

“Dean. Don’t stop,” a voice said in the darkness. It came out more like a growl, an order. Dean whipped his hand up and turned on the lamp beside him.

Castiel was there on the other bed staring at him with  _ those eyes.  _ He was slowly palming himself through his sleep pants while Dean was shocked that anyone would find the current situation sexy. Dean flushed bright red, all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Cas, I-”

“Don’t. Stop.”

Dean couldn’t do anything but comply, watching Cas’ growing erection from four feet away. Maybe it was the haze of alcohol or the feeling Cas gave him when he looked at him, but Dean didn’t stop. He just kept moving while Cas watched.

Dean couldn’t help but put on a show, never breaking eye contact, groaning when Cas’ fingers tightened over himself. He sat up when Cas began to move his hand slowly beyond the waistband of his pants. Were they really going to…?

Dean twisted his hand up towards the head, producing more precome. The movement made Cas’ back arch off of the bed, hand moving faster, copying Dean.

Dean stared at Cas, his jaw set, jerking himself roughly.

“Dean-” Cas gasped. “Come for me,” he whispered. 

He did. The orgasm overcame him as a surprise. He didn’t expect Cas’ words to go right to his dick, but Cas affected him like that. He always did. 

Dean made a mess of the shitty motel bedspread. As the last shuddering spasms left his body, Dean looked up at Cas. Cas had a small smile on his lips. like he knew what he did to Dean. He could unravel him across the room. Bastard.

  
  



End file.
